


but i have promises to keep (and miles to go before i sleep)

by green_tea31



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Good Jonah Walsh, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Somewhat Decent Parent James MacGyver, Werewolves, kind of, macdalton in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-10-28 19:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20783894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_tea31/pseuds/green_tea31
Summary: Jonah looks at him and smiles. The expression transforms his somewhat brutish face and makes him look a lot less intimidating. Angus finds himself smiling back hesitantly.“No, I’m not going to kill you, kid. Like your dad said, most of us are pretty harmless to humans. Do you know why?” Jonah tilts his head back slightly and Angus catches a glint of metal at his throat.“Because of the collar?”The man nods. “Because of the collar. Long as I’m wearing this,” he says, tapping a finger against it, “I’m no danger to anyone Uncle Sam doesn’t approve of.”In a world that's neither fair nor kind, being a werewolf means living life as a second class human. Thankfully, Mac and Jack have never been very good at taking things lying down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finish a WIP, post a WIP, that's how it works, right? Right?
> 
> "I hate slave!fics," she says and posts one anyway. Seriously, I can't stand most slave fics, no matter how well-written, because of one specific element that's always missing. I'm not telling you what, because spoilers, but expect a longish rant at the end of the last chapter.
> 
> This fic was partly inspired by the great macdalton werewolf fics that have been popping up lately, especially  
[this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394778), and [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434987/chapters/43669889) one. Go read those if you haven't yet, then come back and yell at me for making werewolf fic depressing.
> 
> This is going to be darker than my usual fare. Please take heed of the warnings. They won't apply to every chapter, and I will tell you in the notes when they do. 
> 
> This fic is vaguely planned out. Don't expect frequent updates, though. I'm about to start a master's degree in October, and I'm still in the middle of writing my bachelor's thesis.
> 
> As always self-betaed. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title from the poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.

_The Wolf at the Door_, a historical novel based on real events by Maria Courtney Gutierrez

This thrilling novel offers a well-researched and detailed look into the history of werewolves in the United States, and combines it with a passionate love story.

Charles is a young werewolf living a life of dutiful servitude when war is on the horizon. Forced to leave behind not only his pack and community, but his beautiful fiancée Agatha as well, he is drafted and send into the midst of the Great War. While Agatha is embroiled into a terrible conspiracy to assassinate President Woodrow Wilson and subjugate the human race by her cruel father, Charles fights the fight of his life to return home into the arms of the woman he loves.

_“Don’t miss this thrilling adventure!” -Sarah Harper, The Daily News_

_“Not all werewolves are bad – and this book is the proof!” –Mike Peters, Full Moon Watch_

_“Anyone who still doubts the Servitude System should read this book – and it’s well-written, too!” -Andrew McAllister, The Political View_

…

Angus is seven when his Dad first brings home “uncle” Jonah. His mom has been dead for two years, James MacGyver is barely more than a ghost in his own house, and while his grandfather tries, the inquisitive boy is left to his own devices more often than not.

It’s a late September day when Angus comes home to find a strange man sitting in their living room. The two of them face off in a sort of awkward stare-down until Harry comes in after his grandson, expression turning sour the moment he spots the stranger in the house.

“Angus, go to your room and wait there until I tell you to come back. You-,” he says, pointing at the man, “stay exactly where you are. I told Jim I didn’t want your kind in the house.” The stranger flinches away from Harry, a move that seems oddly comical given the difference in physique between him and Angus’ grandfather. 

Angus does as he’s bid and he spends half an hour listening to the muted shouting coming from his father’s study. He watches from his window as his dad leaves in his car, the stranger trailing behind. The man looks up and his eyes are anguished when he catches Angus’s eyes through the window, but the expression vanishes when James calls for him impatiently.

“Angus?” Harry comes into the room, eyes sad. He sits down next to his grandson where he’s perched upon his bed, and puts a hand on the boy’s knee.

“Why don’t you want the man in the house?” Angus asks. His grandfather is one of the friendliest people he knows, never turning away a stranger when he can offer them a roof over their head instead, and the question’s been bugging him.

Harry sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He looks tired. “Jim didn’t want to tell you until you’re older, but I think you should know. It’s not like he’s going to put the mutt back where he belongs. What do you know about wolves, Angus?”

He thinks about the question, the way his grandfather sounded. Angus doesn’t think this is about the animal, _canis lupus_, but about the men and women that society had long ago decided were too dangerous to be left roaming amongst the rest of the population without some degree of control.

“They’re trained to be productive members of society from an early age?” Angus says, a description taken right out of a pamphlet distributed regularly in public institutions. Saying it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, like the thought of _training_ what is essentially a human being with a little extra DNA is a thought too horrible for his mind to process.

Harry frowns. “Yes, but sometimes…sometimes wolves just snap and become dangerous.”

“Like the man in Chicago who killed his neighbour?” Angus remembers the case from the news, a soldier who’d been put down immediately after. He’d been having nightmares for weeks after watching that news story.

“Exactly like that. Angus…I’m not sure how to tell you this-“ Harry trails off, but he doesn’t need to say anything else because there’s only one thing that can make him look as miserable as he does right now.

Angus’ mom.

“Did one of them kill Mom?” He asks his grandfather, not really wanting an answer, but already knowing it anyway. Harry nods and opens his arms. Angus throws himself into the embrace, and if there’s still a nagging voice in his head, telling him that something is very, very wrong here, he ignores it for now.

… 

“Angus, come here for a moment,” his dad calls him into the living room a few days after Harry telling him about his mom. He’s not alone, the stranger is back as well, and Angus hesitates at the door, his grandfather’s words still fresh in his memory. James sighs and looks at the other man apologetically.

“He told you, didn’t he?” James asks. Angus nods and his father crouches down in front of him, one hand brushing through his son’s hair. “The man who killed your mother was very sick, son. He wouldn’t have attacked her if he’d been in his right mind. I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you right now, but most werewolves are harmless to humans. Come on.” His dad gets up and gently pushes Angus forward with a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to meet my friend.”

“Hey kid. My name is Jonah,” the stranger introduces himself. Angus takes a careful step forward, and then another one, and finds that the man doesn’t seem so different from the humans in his life after all.

“I’m Angus,” he says and offers his hand. Jonah shakes it solemnly.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Angus.”

And the thing is, Angus might be genius level smart, and he’s unusually mature for his young age, but he’s still just a child. A child who lost his mother not two years ago, and who is still hurting. Jonah is the only wolf his father has ever brought into their house, and so the next question out of his mouth is not very diplomatic or kind, but devastatingly honest instead.

“Are you going to kill me?” Jonah flinches and Angus immediately regrets having said anything at all. He knows what he’s thinking isn’t very logical, and logic is important, his dad reminds him of that a lot, but here is the only wolf he’s ever met, and only the second person ever he _knows_ is a wolf.

The first one killed his mom.

“Angus-,“ his dad warns, but Jonah waves him off.”

“It’s alright Jim. I got this.”

Jonah looks at him and smiles. The expression transforms his somewhat brutish face and makes him look a lot less intimidating. Angus finds himself smiling back hesitantly.

“No, I’m not going to kill you, kid. Like your dad said, most of us are pretty harmless to humans. Do you know why?” Jonah tilts his head back slightly and Angus catches a glint of metal at his throat.

“Because of the collar?”

The man nods. “Because of the collar. Long as I’m wearing this,” he says, tapping a finger against it, “I’m no danger to anyone Uncle Sam doesn’t approve of.”

Angus frowns. “But…doesn’t it hurt you?”

There’s a strange expression on both Jonah and his dad’s faces now, something he can’t identify.

“Dammit, Jim. Your kid is…” Jonah sounds awed, like he can’t believe that Angus would even think of asking that question. James nods.

“Ellen’s influence. She was one of most tolerant people I ever met.” James puts a hand on his son’s shoulder again and looks at him intently. “Only a fool would condemn a whole species for the sins of a few, something your grandfather new very well once. Jonah and I are hopefully going to be working together for a long time, and he will be a guest here occasionally. I promise you son that he’s no danger to you. In fact, He’s going to help me make sure that you and your grandfather will be safe when I’m not here. I trust him. I hope in time you’ll learn to trust him, too.”

Angus looks at his dad, and at Jonah’s hopeful expression, and nods hesitantly.

He’ll give him a chance.

…

Jonah Walsh becomes a regular visitor during the next few years, and even Harry becomes less hostile with time, the grief over his daughter’s death fading from a sharp pain into a dull ache. Angus gets used to having the werewolf in their guest room during weekends, almost comes to expect to be woken up by Jonah’s terrible singing and the smell of chocolate chip pancakes on Sunday mornings.

Angus learns a lot, too. Jonah teaches him how to behave if there’s an intruder in the house. He learns how to spot someone tailing him and how to lose that tail, learns how to pickpocket, how to hide and survive in any kind of environment. Angus always suspected that his dad’s work isn’t just doing research in a lab somewhere, and the things James has Jonah teach his son only confirm his suspicions.

He won’t ever tell his dad, but Jonah is a far better teacher than James MacGyver will ever be. True – Angus learns a lot from his dad as well, but Jonah is patient in a way James will never be, and he shows an understanding of Angus’ emotional state that James will never have.

Jonah teaches him how to shoot, too. It’s a quiet Sunday morning when he first drives Angus to a nearby shooting range.

“I know you’re not exactly a fan of guns, kid,” Jonah says while they’re waiting for the owner to confirm his clearance. Werewolves aren’t allowed to own or use guns unless they work for the government or do security work of some sort, and even then, they still require the permission of their handler, James MacGyver in Jonah’s case.

“It’s just-“ Angus doesn’t know how describe his unease at the thought of actually using a gun. His dad had told him that he should at least know the basics, given that there are several guns in the house, and Angus has always found delight in learning new things, but…

Bozer told him about his brother’s death last month. Angus isn’t even sure he ever wants to touch a gun, let alone use one.

“Hey…Mini Mac,” Jonah says, crouching down in front of him. He’s taken to calling Angus that lately, the way he calls James Big Mac, and it always makes him feel special, like he _matters_. “Look – I know what happened to your friend’s brother was terrible, and I wouldn’t ever want to touch a gun after hearing a story like that either, but…why don’t you look at it this way. If you learn how to use a gun, there’s a chance you’ll be able to _prevent_ something like that from happening one day.”

Angus raises his head and looks into earnest blue eyes, a gentle smile hiding beneath Jonah's beard.

“I guess I can try-“

Jonah grins and raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not gonna quote Yoda at ya’. Try is more than enough for now. Come on, Hank is back. Let’s see what he can do for us, eh?”

Over the next few hours, Jonah teaches him how to strip, clean, reassemble, and fire three different types of handguns. Angus will never be comfortable with guns, and Jonah doesn’t ask him to be, but he’s a quick learner, and the promise of spending one Sunday each month with his adopted uncle is enough incentive to make him look forward to repeating the lesson until it sticks.

…

Everything changes a month after Angus turns twelve. Jonah has been spending more and more time at their house lately, even helping Harry with the preparations for Angus’ birthday party. There’s a scare about two weeks after his birthday when someone blows up a police station in Los Angeles, and the ensuing police raids and mass arrests lead to Jonah staying in the guest room three days in a row. His dad mostly spends those days on the phone, shouting at people, and Jonah grows quieter with each breaking news about injured and killed werewolves.

It’s the first time Angus is confronted with what it means to be a wolf in modern society. He didn’t really understand why Jonah seemed so timid and subservient when James first brought him home, still is when they’re in public, but by now Angus has watched enough news, seen people treat Jonah as second class human often enough, that he’s beginning to understand why some critics call the established system a thinly veiled cover for slavery.

Not that he would ever voice his thoughts out loud. Abolitionists get taken out and shot, even if no one talks about it openly.

It’s a quiet Saturday night when the man comes into their house. Harry is spending the evening playing poker with some old war buddies of his and likely won’t be home until early next morning, so it’s just Angus, his dad, and Jonah when the door bell rings. James lets the stranger in and he and Jonah lead him into the study.

Angus settles down to watch one of his favourite episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000, when a muffled shout from the study draws his attention. He’s not supposed to interrupt when his dad has guests, but the shouting only stops when the sound of a gunshot rips through the house, and Angus shakily approaches the door to the study. It’s been left slightly ajar, and he manages to catch a glimpse of the stranger, holding a gun in the direction of his father’s desk.

He draws back in shock, heart pounding frantically, and his first urge is to call the police. He doesn’t though, because Jonah is still in there and werewolves always get arrested first, everyone knows that. Angus looks through the gap again and spots another gun, lying on the floor behind the stranger. It’s the model Jonah taught him how to use only a month ago.

“I’m going to call in the Bureau, and I promise they’re going to have a very thorough look into your activities James. Your mutt here will be send back to the pound for re-education because I despise waste,” the man with the gun says, voice gleeful if somewhat scratchy. Angus pushes the door open until he can just slip through. He’s still hidden from his father and Jonah's view as he picks up the gun and aims it at the stranger.

“Put your gun down,” he says to the man who turns around at the sound of Angus’ voice. James’ eyes widen with panic when he sees the gun in his son’s hand, and only Jonah's hand on his leg keeps him from doing something foolish.

Jonah is on the floor, leaning against James and bleeding from a gunshot wound to his shoulder. There are burn marks around the collar at his throat, the controller, normally safely hidden with James, is clenched between the fingers of the stranger’s hand currently not holding the gun.

Angus feels an unexpected surge of rage.

“I said…put the gun down,” he repeats shakily but determined. The stranger huffs a disbelieving laugh.

“What are you going to do – shoot me?”

Angus really wants to be somewhere else, anywhere else right now, but the anguish in his dad’s eyes, and the pain on Jonah's face keep him rooted to the spot. Jonah once told him to never aim at something or someone you’re not prepared to shoot, and it’s that warning ringing through his head when the man suddenly moves forward, trying to tackle him.

Pulling the trigger is an almost unconscious reflex.

The sound of the discharging gun is deafening is the confined space of the study. Angus drops the weapon almost immediately. James comes over and picks it up, putting the gun on his desk. He cups his son’s face with his hands, obscuring the view of the stranger lying in a puddle of his blood.

“Hey, Angus. Look at me! It’s alright. Jonah and I are going to take care of this.” James tries to push his son towards the door of the study, but Angus is spellbound, barely able to hear what his dad is saying. Jonah has gotten up in the meantime, heavily leaning on the desk. He says something to James that Angus can’t understand, but his father turns around and he manages to get a glimpse of the stranger, eyes staring into nothing, blood staining the carpet.

He vomits all over his father’s shoes.

Angus’ twelfth birthday was a month ago and he’s just killed a man.

… 

“Jonah, bathroom. We need to take care of your shoulder. Angus, pack a bag for a few days. You need to be somewhere else when the body is discovered.” James voice is harsh, but there’s an undercurrent of worry there that tells Angus everything his father isn’t saying.

“Hey-“ James kneels down in front of the chair where his son is still staring at his hands.

“I’m so very sorry, son. You were never supposed to be involved in this.” His hands cover Angus’.

“He’s already involved, Jim. Just for being born into this shit world. You were never going to be able to keep him out of it forever,” Jonah throws in.

James frowns. “I had hoped to keep him out of it a little longer.”

“Are you part of the Underground?” Angus asks shakily. It would explain a lot of his father and Jonah's behaviour over the years. The Underground is a legend, a story told in whispers in the dark. Humans and werewolves working together to get wolves out of the country, working together to change the system.

The government calls them terrorists.

He’s tried to keep an eye on the news ever since his dad first brought Jonah home, made plans to contact the Underground once he’d be of age, but now…

Angus doesn’t know what to think anymore.

“I am,” James tells him solemnly. He looks at Jonah who nods. “We both are, but that’s not something you need to worry about right now.”

“I want to help,” Angus says. James flinches at his declaration, but Jonah looks thoughtful. Not really a surprise, because while Angus and his dad may have a lot in common, it’s the man he’s come to call uncle who always seemed to understand him better – who never underestimated him the way his dad still does sometimes.

James shakes his head. “You’re too young, Angus. Maybe when you’re older, but for now I need you to pack a few things and then wait in the car for us. Can you do that?”

Angus wants to say no, that he isn’t finished saying what he wants to say, but he’s tired, and when he closes his eyes he can still hear the gunshot ripping through the silence. He nods and gets up.

“Hey kid.” Jonah's voice stops him. “Thank you.”

“What are you-?”

His dad looks angry, but doesn’t stop his partner from continuing.

“You saved my life tonight, Mac. I know you don’t like using guns, and I would have done a lot to spare you this experience, but without you I’d be dead.” Jonah smiles at him, even though Angus is pretty sure the stranger wouldn’t actually have killed him.

“I thought he said they’d send you back to re-education?”

Jonah grins ruefully, throwing a glance at Jim. His next words leave Angus chilled to the bone.

“I’ve been through that once, kid. There’s no way I would have let them take me there a second time.”

…

His dad drives them all night. Jonah is asleep in the passenger seat for most of it, shoulder freshly bandaged. Angus tries to sleep as well, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see are the sightless eyes of the stranger, staring into nothing.

James pulls into a driveway in the early morning hours, the sun just barely rising over the horizon. He gets out with a warning to Angus to stay put, and doesn’t return for half an hour. Jonah wakes up after a few minutes.

“Hey, Mini Mac. We already there?” he asks.

Angus shrugs. “No idea. Dad left the car, but didn’t explain anything.”

Jonah chuckles. “Yeah, sounds like him.”

James choses that moment to return, followed by an anxious looking woman. She isn’t tall, dishwater blonde hair, brown eyes, and a kind smile once she spots Angus.

“Give us a moment, Hailey?” James asks. She nods and takes a few steps back. James turns to his son.

“Angus…you’re going to stay here for a few days. Hailey and her husband are old friends of mine.”

Angus swallows nervously. “And what are you going to do?”

James throws a look at Jonah who’s left the car and walked around to Angus’ side.

“Tell him the truth, Jim. He’s going to find out someday anyway, and at least this way, it’s going to come from you,” Jonah says. James nods, exhaustion heavy in his voice when he continues.

“Jonah needs to get out of the country as soon as possible. The people we’ve been working for…Angus-“

“They’re going to blame him, aren’t they?” Angus interrupts his father. “They’re going to think that he killed the guy in your study.”

Jonah grabs his arm, squeezing gently. “Hey, this is not your fault, kid. Something like this would have happened anyway. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but my cover was always going to blow up spectacularly. ‘Least this way, I can still do some good far away from here, and your dad gets to keep fighting the good fight.”

Angus swallows and nods, not trusting himself to speak without bursting into tears. Jonah draws him into a hug, and a few tears escape anyway, but he doesn’t care. The two men get back into the car, and Angus watches while their tail lights vanish around the corner. Hailey gently clasps his shoulder.

“Your dad will be back soon, Angus.”

He resists the urge to glare at her. What happened in their house is not her fault, it’s his, no matter what Jonah says, and now his uncle is going to pay the price.

…

Hailey is a teacher. She and her husband Ben welcome Angus with open arms. During his first night in the house, Angus wakes from a screaming nightmare, shaking, and Hailey takes him into her arms and makes him hot cocoa.

“It’s going to get easier,” she says quietly while Angus sips at his cup. He frowns and looks at her questioningly.

“The nightmares.” She pours herself a cup and sits down next to him. Her eyes are sad in the dim light of the kitchen. “I don’t know what happened to you – James was very vague – but I recognize trauma when I see it.”

Angus shakes his head. Sure, it wasn’t nice what happened. But that doesn’t mean he’s traumatized.

Hailey smiles gently. “I had a son you know. He was only a few years older than you are now when he died.”

He swallows, suddenly dreading her next words. “What happened?”

Her smile turns sad. “He was turned after receiving a contaminated blood transfusion while in the hospital. The change almost killed him, but it’s what came after that made us seek out the Underground and your dad…because the government took him away from us. Told us our son was dead, that the change had turned him into a monster.” She swallows down tears. Angus puts a hand over hers and Hailey nods gratefully.

“We never saw him again. Brian would be in college now if they hadn’t taken him away from us. I still dream of the expression on his face, the last time I saw him. He was so smart, and he knew what they were going to do.” She rubs a hand over her face. “So, you see. I know that things seem terrifying right now. And the dreams will likely be with you for a long time, but it _will_ get better, Angus. And someday-“ She tilts her head, considering him carefully. “Someday when you’re old enough, and your dad is being stubborn, because I know that overprotective look he’s got, you come and find me. I’ll put you in touch with the Underground.”

Angus draws a deep breath, hope rising in his chest. He squeezes her fingers gently and smiles at her. Together, they watch as the sun rises over the horizon.

…

James returns after two days, nodding at Angus’ questioning glance. Jonah made it safely then, and they’re not going to see him again for a long time, if ever.

He doesn’t ask to help the Underground again. With Jonah gone, there’s no way his dad is letting him anywhere near this, and he’s got Hailey’s promise tucked away in the corner of his heart. Angus says a quiet goodbye to Hailey and Ben and leaves with his dad.

When they come back to the house, there’s police cars and men in dark suits everywhere. Harry runs up to the car, hugging Angus when he gets out, frantically searching his grandson’s face for any sign of what happened over the last few days.

“Take Angus away from here, Harry. I’ll deal with this,” James tells him and walks up to one of the men standing around the police cars. He stops after a few steps and turns around, looking at his son. There’s something unreadable on his face, something anguished, and Angus wants nothing more than to run up to his dad and hug him. He’s afraid to turn away from his father, afraid he’ll turn around again and James will be gone, too.

Harry wraps an arm around Angus’ shoulders. “It will be fine my boy. Your dad knows what he’s doing.”

“But Jonah-“ A pointed glance from his grandfather silences him.

“None of that now. Come on. I talked to Wilt’s father. We can stay with them until this mess is sorted out.”

And that’s what they do. Bozer’s parents are more than happy to have them stay over for a few days. His best friend provides every kind of distraction he can think of, sensing on an instinctual level that whatever happened to Angus must have been terrible.

Angus tells Bozer to call him Mac from now on. It’s both a memory and a promise. Jonah called him that, and he’s never going to forget the sacrifice his uncle made for him; he swears to himself that someday he’ll repay it.

Harry takes him home on the fourth day. When Mac walks into the house he’s greeted by an eerie silence that makes him shiver. He looks at his grandfather and knows that something is wrong.

“Angus…there’s something we need to talk about-”

Mac doesn’t let him finish. He runs to his dad’s study and throws the door open. The blood stain on the floor is gone, so is the carpet.

Everything that belonged to his dad is gone, too.

Mac won’t see him again for fifteen years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac makes a decision and has to live with the consequences. All roads lead to canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not want to be written, I rewrote the second half three times. Still no Jack, but I promise he'll finally appear in the next chapter.
> 
> As always, self-betaed. All mistakes are my own.

_“Testing Law” Supported by Majority of Americans_

The bill that allows the Inspectors of the Re-education Centers around the country to regularly test even minors such as high school students for infection was part of a recent survey by the Pew Research Center. In an unprecedented show of support, almost seventy percent of the participants said they thought the aforementioned law is “good for society as a whole”. Only five percent voiced clear dissatisfaction with the law.

_“We honestly didn’t expect this kind of outcome,” Dr Roberta Merryweather who headed the survey said upon request. “We will certainly repeat the survey in time to see if the result changes, but at the moment, the law is overwhelmingly thought of as a good thing.”_ For further information, turn to page nine.

…

Mac wakes up to Frankie storming into his room with her usual disregard for any kind of personal space.

“Wake up, boy wonder. It’s a beautiful Sunday and we’re supposed to meet Smitty at the coffee shop in half an hour.”

Mac groans and puts his pillow over his face. “’s too ‘rly,” he says, voice muffled. Frankie snorts and grabs the pillow. The sunlight feels like knifes digging into his brain.

“Late night in the lab?” She asks sardonically.

“More like early morning. How’d you know I wasn’t out last night anyway?”

“Like you have any kind of social life I don’t drag you to.”

Mac shrugs because she’s got a point. He likes a good party well enough, but more often than not he gets distracted by an experiment he’s running, or a professor asks him for help, and Mac forgets that he was supposed to attend a party in the first place. Science is and always will be his first love, and MIT is a far cry from the Mission City High School science lab, so he figures he can be forgiven for getting distracted now and again.

He drags himself out of bed, and winces at the deep bags beneath his eyes when he looks into the bathroom mirror. Late nights are an essential part of life at MIT, but sometimes Mac wishes that he could get a few more hours of sleep during the week. Loud clanging noises from the kitchen tell him that Frankie is decidedly not happy with him procrastinating in the bathroom, and he hurries through his morning routine, because a cranky Frankie is a Frankie who burns the coffee on purpose, and right now he really needs his coffee unburnt.

Mac stumbles into the kitchen and gulps down half the content of the cup Frankie presses into his hands in one go. It’s thankfully not too hot, the perfect temperature for drinking really, because she knows him better than he knows himself some days, and right now she looks at him like he’s an adorable little gazelle about to be taken down by predators as soon as she lets Mac out of her sight for too long.

Needless to say her strange habit of mothering him when he isn’t looking makes the crush he has on her even weirder than it already is. Also, he’s pretty sure Frankie and Bozer have weekly phone calls about making sure he eats and sleeps enough, and thinking about that for too long makes his head hurt so he stops.

“Come one. Finish your coffee, Mac. I want to be at the shop before the Inspectors arrive on campus. Once the freshmen arrive, there’ll be no tables left and Smitty is a pushover. He never manages to secure us a spot because he’s too afraid of making people cry,” Frankie says, grabbing her jacket and looking at him expectantly.

Mac tightens his grip on the mug at the reminder of the date. He hates the Inspectors and their condescending attitude. Like all freshmen Mac had been forced to go through the testing process himself, just one of many ways the government tries to make sure that no wolf slips through their ever expanding grasp.

There’d been a young woman, a few years older than Mac, who’d tested positive when he’d gone in for testing. He’d watched as they let her away, protesting that she hadn’t meant to get infected, but she’d been robbed a few weeks ago and one of the attackers had bitten her. She’d thought the bite hadn’t taken, but obviously the test results said differently. Mac had been nauseous with helplessness, unable to be nothing but a silent bystander as she vanished into a nondescript van, the doors closing on her panicked eyes.

…

They arrive at the coffee shop well before the rush and join Smitty at their usual table in the back, next to the cake display. He shoves two mugs at them, black as the night for Frankie, and just enough sugar and cream to make it bearable for Mac.

“You spent the night in the lab again, didn’t you?” Smitty asks, mustering Mac with a critical eye. Mac rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee before answering, because he definitely hasn’t had enough coffee yet to be a civilized person.

“As if you’re any better,” Mac says. Frankie swats his hand when he tries to steal a crumb from the plate of pastries Smitty had wisely ordered before they got there, because a hungry Frankie is a cranky one.

“Get your own breakfast, Mac.” She draws the plate closer to herself and glares at him.

Smitty grins at them. “You should know not to come between Frankie and her pastries by now, my friend. And I might not be any better at getting sleep than you, but at least I’m an adult. You’re not. You need the sleep or you’ll never grow up properly.”

Mac rolls his eyes. “I’m 5’10 already. I don’t think I have any growing left to do, guys. And I’m an adult, too. I’m not seventeen anymore.”

Frankie snorts and pushes her plate closer to Mac again, because now that she’s gotten a few sugary calories to settle her mood she’s willing to share the rest. Mac takes something that looks like the lovechild of a croissant a bear claw and starts munching on it happily.

“You know, if you two continue to eat like that, you’ll both be dead before you hit thirty,” Smitty says, pointedly glancing at their choice of breakfast food. Mac is about to respond when a sudden crash outside the shop makes him jump in his seat.

“What the,” Frankie says just as the door to the shop is thrown open and a dishevelled looking young man stumbles in, looking vaguely hunted.

Mac swallows down his last bite, the pastry sitting heavy in his stomach. He has a feeling he knows what this is about.

“Shit,” Frankie nervously twists her hands on the table, appetite seemingly gone, while the stranger steps up to the counter and orders a coffee, his voice shaking slightly. Some customers throw him sympathetic glances, others look at him with disgust, ready to turn him in themselves if he tries to run.

“Dammit, we didn’t have a positive testing since the year you were a freshman, right?” Smitty asks and Mac shakes his head, not trusting his voice right now.

“But the testing hasn’t even started yet,” Frankie says, confused. “I mean, they kind of make that shit public, don’t they? Who is still stupid enough to apply to any kind of college when they _know_ that they’re…you know.”

Mac shakes his head in warning, because it’s one thing to talk about their disdain for the government’s policies in the relative privacy of their homes, it’s another to do it in public like this.

“We should go,” Mac says and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. Frankie and Smitty follow him out of the shop in subdued silence. The street is almost empty. No one likes to be out and about on testing day, and Mac is half convinced the government only chose Sunday as official date for the procedure as some kind of twisted psychological warfare against their own people.

They’re halfway to Frankie’s ancient Volvo when he stops.

“I think I’m going to walk, guys. I need some air,” Mac says. Frankie and Smitty look at each other, something undefinable passing between them.

“You sure Mac?” Smitty asks.

“Yeah. You two go ahead. I just…I need some time to think.”

Frankie smiles at him and places a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “Make sure you’re home early enough. You don’t want to miss Smitty’s lasagna.”

Mac watches as they get into Frankie’s car and pull out onto the street. Once the car has vanished around the corner, he turns around and makes his way back to the shop.

He’s got something to do.

…

Mac waits in the alley behind the shop, because he knows that’s the only other way outside aside from the front entrance. He paces, heart racing, because he’s about to do something incredibly stupid and Frankie would have his hide if she even had an inkling of what he’s about to do.

The thing is though…

He doesn’t think he can look the other way any longer. He’d promised Jonah, and later on his dad, that he’d keep out of it, that he’d stay safe, but if staying safe means not doing anything while people vanish into the dark machinery of the government, then he’s no longer willing to be a part of that.

And besides, it’s not like he’s going to take up arms and lead a group of resistance fighters. Not that he would, take up arms that is. That single gunshot from all those years ago is still all he can hear in his dreams some nights, and the thought of ever touching a gun again makes him nauseous.

Mac is just…handing over a piece of paper. That’s all. He’s on no government watch list. No one is going to care about one escaped wolf.

The backdoor slams open, and the young man from earlier all but flees the shop. He stops cold when he spots Mac and is about to turn around when Mac’s voice stops him.

“Wait, please. I’m not here to turn you in.”

The guy turns around again and takes a few wary steps.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, glancing past Mac towards the open street, probably gauging his chances of escape.

“I’m just…look,” Mac drags his hand through his hair, frustrated, and shoves the crinkled paper he’s been clutching at for the past few minutes at the guy.

“Call this number. Tell her you got it from Mac. She’ll make sure you get to Canada with the government none the wiser.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Mac takes a careful step forward, arm still extended. “It’s either me or you take your chances with the Inspectors, but I guarantee they haven’t let anyone slip through their grasp yet.”

They guy takes the piece of paper from Mac’s hand and looks at it. Mac steps aside, clearing the way to the street.

“You…why are you doing this?” The stranger asks, voice shaky, but Mac just shrugs, unable to put it into words.

The guy closes his eyes and when he opens again, it’s as if someone’s taken a weight off his shoulders. “Thanks man. You’ve got no idea…shit,” he says, sounding close to tears. Mac watches him leave until he’s gone and drops to his knees in the alley, shaking like the proverbial leaf in the wind.

He can’t believe he just did that.

…

Nothing remarkable happens for the next few months. Frankie and Mac continue to be the star students of their respective departments while Smitty shakes his head and mutters about the unfairness of the gene pool, because how can they be gorgeous and genius-level smart is apparently beyond him. Still, he’s no slouch either, so most of it is just for show anyway.

Mac has almost convinced himself that his one act of rebellion has gone unnoticed, until a rainy Friday night when his oldest friend rings the doorbell to his apartment frantically, nearly stumbling into Mac when he opens the door, while dragging another person with him. _Trisha,_ Mac’s brain immediately supplies, one of Bozer’s sisters.

“Boze, Trish, what the hell?” Mac asks, closing the door. The siblings look at him, expressions caught somewhere between helplessness and desperation. 

“I didn’t know where else to go, Mac,” Bozer says, dropping onto Mac’s ugly couch like a marionette with its strings cut. “Trish called me two days ago from New York. They want to test her _tomorrow_ and I’ve got no idea what to do.” He looks up at his sister. “I couldn’t just let them _take_ her, Mac.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, Boze,” Mac says, holding up a hand to stop his best friend’s rambling. He glances at Trish who has that hunted look on her face that Mac recognizes from the guy he’d helped a few months ago.

_Shit. _

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Mac asks and Trish nods miserably.

“Yeah. I went to the hospital a few weeks ago for a routine surgery, but there were some complications and I needed a blood transfusion.” She takes a deep breath and sits down next to Bozer, grabbing her brother’s hand as if to steel herself for the next bit.

“The blood was contaminated apparently. Someone at the hospital fucked up. I don’t know if I’m the only one affected, but I definitely know that the infection took hold. I don’t need to be tested for that.”

Mac doesn’t ask her how she knows that. There are a variety of symptoms she could have experienced after being infected and, contrary to popular opinion, infected people don’t just experience those symptoms around the full moon.

“Does anyone know that you left New York?” Mac asks while his brain is three steps ahead, already planning how to get Trish to Hailey. He’ll have to cancel his lab times for the next two days at least, maybe he’ll cite a family emergency. Harry is getting on in years after all, and he’s pretty sure his grandfather will back him up if he asks.

Bozer shakes his head. “No. We told no one, and I’m reasonably sure that we weren’t followed.”

Mac doesn’t know how reliable Bozer’s ability to spot a tail is, he’s a film student not a spy, but right now it’s all they have. He ushers the siblings towards his guest bedroom and supplies them with the essentials. When the two are settles for the night, he walks into his bathroom and retrieves the burner phone from the waterproof bag he’s keeping in the toilet tank.

_“Sometimes the classics are classics for a reason,” Jonah had told him, the last time they’d seen each other. Mac had been standing in their old house, watching as his dad and uncle retrieved various items stashed around the place, and his meticulous brain had never really let him forget any of it._

“Hello?” Hailey’s voice is still unmistakable to Mac, even after all this years.

“Hailey? It’s Mac. I need your help.”

“Mac. My god, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon after…,” she trails off and Mac breathes a little easier, knowing that the guy he’d given his number to had taken the leap of faith and used the number instead of throwing it away.

“Yeah, listen. I’ve got another one and this time…this time it’s personal. I’m going to bring them to you myself.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. They’ve been extra vigilant in your area lately. I think someone’s got an idea that they let one slip through their fingers.”

Mac closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I know, but…I need to do this.” He simply can’t not. He and Bozer may have drifted apart a bit after Mac left for MIT, but this is still his best friend, still the guy who was there for Mac when his dad left, and who stood by his side through some of the worst periods of Mac’s life.

“Alright, listen. Maybe this was fate. I’m currently in Ottawa, visiting my parents. How quickly do you need to get them out?”

“As soon as possible. She’s due for testing tomorrow.”

“Shit, okay. I’ve got a contact in the area who can meet you in Montpelier. Get you up the rest of the way. There’s a little café on Harrison Avenue. Just be there at twelve and he’ll recognize you. You got an excuse to leave the city for a few days?”

“Yeah. Harry. I’m going to tell everyone it’s a family emergency.”

“Good. That will work. Make sure you book a flight then.”

Probably a good idea, and not something he’s thought of yet, but Hailey has years of experience so he’s going to do exactly as she tells him to.

“I will.”

“Good. And Mac? Be careful, please?”

Mac smiles. “I will. Thank you so much for this.”

“It’s what I do.”

…

“So…do you know this contact we’re supposed to meet?” Bozer asks while Mac pulls out of the parking lot. It’s still early, still dark out and if they hurry, they’ll be well ahead of the Inspectors after they discover that Trish decided not to appear for her appointment after all.

“No. Hailey just said he would recognize us.”

Bozer frowns. “You think it’s someone you know?”

“Maybe.” Mac hasn’t thought about it much, but there’s a well-hidden part of him that hopes it’s Jonah or his dad waiting for them.

Bozer turns around and throws a glance at his sister, sleeping in the backseat, head resting against the window.

“Trish didn’t get much sleep last night. Didn’t get much sleep myself either.” He turns back, a questions in his eyes when he looks at Mac. “You never told me what happened with Jonah…back then. He was just there one day and the next he was gone and the police was swarming all over your house. I mean…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Mac grimaces. He hasn’t thought about those days in a long time. Had forced the memory into the farthest reaches of his brain until it became nothing more than a shadow of its former self. Still, his nightmares have never really let him forget the events and if there’s anyone he’d trust with those memories it’s the man sitting next to him.

So Mac tells him, every last gritty detail, his voice breaking over the more horrific memories. Bozer doesn’t interrupt him, just lets him talk, and Mac is so grateful that his friend knows him so well, knows that sometimes it’s best to just let him stumble his way through an emotional confession without interrupting him.

There’s not much traffic on the way, so Mac manages not to crash them. When he finishes his explanation, Bozer still doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and Mac finds the silence strangely comforting. When he talks, Bozer’s voice is heavy with emotion.

“I…I really don’t know what to say, except, I’m so sorry that happened and also thank you for telling me, man.”

Mac smiles. “Don’t worry, Boze. That’s more than enough.”

…

They get to Montpelier and the café with some time to spare, so they order a late breakfast, or maybe an early lunch because none of them had really been hungry that morning, but now that the promised salvation is on the horizon, their collective nerves have calmed down a bit, and Mac is not the only one who would kill for something to eat.

He looks up from stuffing his face with the most delicious omelette he’s ever had and finds Trish staring at him with some unnamed emotion in her eyes, Bozer nowhere to be found.

“He went to the restroom. Mac…,” She trails off and puts he fork down, taking a sip of her coffee and swallowing heavily. “What you’re doing for us - what you’re doing for _me_…I don’t know if I can ever repay that, Mac. When they told me about the contamination I seriously thought – that’s it. They’re going to take me away and no one is ever going to find out what happened to me.” She leans back in her chair and looks out of the window, her gaze wistful.

“I broke up with Claudia the next day, you know. You know how she is. She would have staged a protest in front of the Center and gotten herself arrested, and it all would have been for nothing anyway. I just couldn’t put her through that.” Her voice almost breaks on the last few words and a few tears escape, leaving glistening trails on her skin.

Mac thinks that maybe, Claudia would have wanted to make that decision herself, but chastises himself for the thought. Claudia isn’t himself, and Trish isn’t his dad, and there’s a lot more at stake here than a relationship. No matter how much Trish loved her girlfriend, Mac has met Claudia, and she’s not the type to just steal away in the night like Trish and Bozer did. Her reaction could have potentially endangered all of them, and maybe letting her go had been the only way for Trish to protect both of them.

“You could try to get a message to her once you’re safe,” Mac ventures, but Trish shakes her head.

“No. Believe me, I burned those bridges very thoroughly.” Before Mac can say anything else, Bozer drops back into his seat.

“Man, this city is strange. There was this guy in the bathroom who looked at me like I’d killed his dog, and I’m pretty sure he was staring at us when we came in earlier, too.”

Mac’s heart drops and he clenches his hand around his knife before consciously relaxing his muscles and putting it back down.

“Bozer, is the guy still in the bathroom?”

Bozer looks at him questioningly. “Yeah, pretty sure he is. Why?”

Mac puts a twenty on the table and gets up. “We need to go.”

“What. Why?” Bozer asks, but Trish obviously got the message. She grabs Bozer’s arm and pulls him up, too.

“There’s another exit next to the door leading to the bathroom,” Bozer says and he looks panicked now. Mac nods and leads the way. That will get them closer to the stranger Bozer mentioned, but they’ll have to risk it anyway, because right then, there’s a suspiciously familiar black car pulling up in front of the café.

“We need to go,” Mac says, leading the way out back, trying not to run because the last thing they need right now is even more attention. They make it into the alley behind the café with no one trying to stop them, and Mac thinks they might get away from this after all, when someone barrels into him and he hits the ground, pain spreading through his body.

“Mac!”

Turning around, Mac watches as the door from the café is thrown open again and another stranger rushes into the alley, grabbing Mac’s attacker from behind. Trish is surreptitiously inching closer to some kind of metal pipe conveniently lying just a few inches away from her, and Bozer looks around frantically, like he can’t quite decide whether to jump into the fight or stay well away from it.

Mac looks at the two men throwing punches at each other. The newcomer quickly gains the upper hand. He wrenches the other man back, puts his arms around his opponent’s head and throat, and there’s a sickening crunch, and then silence.

Trish picks up the pipe, but Mac throws her a look and shakes his head. The pipe falls to the ground, the sound deafening in the aftermath of the fight. The stranger holds out his hand and Mac takes it, lets himself be pulled up, because the stranger isn’t a stranger at all.

“Jonah.”

The crooked grin on his uncle’s face is at once familiar and entirely new.

“Hey, kid. Long time no see.”

…

Jonah crouches down next to the man he’s just killed and pats down his pockets, retrieving a set of car keys. “Toyota. I think I saw it in the parking lot. Come on, kids. We gotta hurry before those Agents stop questioning the guests and realise the party is in the back. Tough luck. This guy was a Center employee and thought you three looked shifty. Overheard him when he called in reinforcements.” Bozer tries to say something, but a look from Jonah silences him. They find the car the keys belong to and Jonah tells them to keep their heads down until they’re at the safe house he’s been staying at.

The house is old, in a neighbourhood where no one questions you if you stay up until three to sacrifice virgins in your backyard, or so Mac imagines, never really having lived anywhere besides Mission City and MIT. Jonah ushers them into the house and draws the curtains, and they spend a very tense quarter of an hour, sitting on an ancient couch in the almost empty living room while Jonah stands next to the door, gun drawn.

“Alright. We should be clear,” he says and engages the safety, putting the weapon back into the waistband of his jeans.

“There’s a bathroom in the back. Should have enough stuff to clean you both up.” Jonah pointedly looks at the scratches on Bozer’s face and Trisha’s arm, and the two leave in subdued silence. Mac tries to do the same, but his uncle shakes his head and he sits back down.

Jonah takes a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face in frustration. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and crosses his arms over his chest, before glaring at Mac with an expression that Mac has never seen on his face before. “What the hell we’re you thinking, kid?” He asks, and walks over until he’s close enough, Mac can see the fear beneath the anger in his eyes. He imagines that Jonah would probably like to yell at him a bit, but if there’s anything wolves who work for the government learn early, it’s how to control their tempers.

“That stunt you pulled a few months ago was bad enough, but this was just stupid! Do you have any idea how close you’re to being discovered right now?”

Mac stays quiet, because Jonah is right and it’s dawning on him right now, what he’s done. He gave a complete stranger the number of an Underground contact, someone who has spent years ferreting wolves over the border, helping people. And Mac nearly compromised that because he’d felt guilty.

Admitting that failure tastes sour in his throat.

Jonah crouches down in front of him and grabs his arms. “Dammit, kid. I promised your dad I’d keep you out of it and you go and do something like this. Do you have any idea…” Mac shakes his head, answering a question Jonah hasn’t asked, and his uncle just killed a man for him, like Mac did for him all those years ago, and he’s just so tired of being helpless, and so he lets Jonah draw him into an embrace and cries until he has no tears left.

…

They don’t stay at the house for very long. By now, it should be clear that Trisha has no intention of ever showing up to get tested, so they don’t have much time. They ditch the Toyota and take a Jeep Jonah has stashed in an empty warehouse nearby. For all the trouble they’ve had until now, the last part of the journey is surprisingly easy, no one stopping them until they pull into an empty parking lot just north of the border.

Hailey is waiting for them. She takes one look at Mac, at the miserable expression on all of their faces and draws him into a warm embrace that reminds him of the day he said goodbye to her, all those years ago.

“Oh Angus. I told Jonah to be gentle with you.”

Mac sniffs a little. “It’s okay. He was right. I was stupid and put you in danger.”

Hailey grips his shoulders and shakes her head. “That doesn’t matter now. You’re here and you’re safe, we’re all safe, and I think you learned your lesson.” She lets got of him and looks at Bozer and Trish.

“Now you must be the ones needing my help.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Hailey. You must be Trisha. Jonah told me about your situation. I have a contact in Ottawa who will help you start your new life. Come along now. Let’s give these two some time to get reacquainted while I tell you what will happen next.” She places an arm around Trish and nods at Bozer. “You too Mr Bozer. I know it looks like you’re losing a sister right now, but I promise you we will take good care of her.” She leads the siblings towards her car and leaves Mac and Jonah with an awkward silence between them that neither is sure how to break.

“”The Army,” Jonah says, derailing whatever thoughts are running through Mac’s head right then.

“What?”

His uncle turns to him and considers him carefully. “You’re going to join the Army, kid.” He tries to say something else, but Jonah interrupts him.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Mac asks, but Jonah just quirks an eyebrow, and Mac remembers that expression from his childhood, expecting Mac to figure it out for himself. A challenge to be met, but he can’t think of a reason why he would join the Army. His grandfather served, yes, but he’d never even contemplated working for the very government that-

Except…

“Really?”

Jonah nods. “You’re this close to being put on a watch list and I guarantee you, if you stay at MIT and keep getting involved with the Underground, they will find out about you. You need a cover that’s more solid than genius kid at a prestigious college.”

Mac swallows heavily. “I’m going to have to carry a gun. I can’t…”

Jonah interrupts him. “Naw, kid. You’ll be expected to prove you can use them during basic, but then you’re going to apply for EOD training, and I’ve got some contacts there. I’ll make sure they set you up with a competent overwatch, and if you’re going to be half as good as I think you will, no one’s going to ask why you’re not carrying a gun.”

Mac can see it, his brain already mapping out a plan for his immediate future. He’ll tell people some fabricated story about his grandfather, and how he never really felt like he was doing anything that mattered at MIT, and they will believe it. They might also call him crazy, but no one is seriously going to question his decision.

Shit – he’s going to do this, isn’t he?

“Hey, come here kid,” Jonah says and draws him into another embrace. “Breathe, Mac. If anyone’s got a reason to panic, it’s me. Your dad is going to kill me the next time I see him.”

Mac draws back. “How…how is he?” He hasn’t quite forgiven his father for leaving him behind, might never be able to completely forgive him, but, after the last few days, Mac at least understands him a little better.

“Still kicking. Still an idiot when it comes to the emotional stuff. You know he loves you kid, right?”

Mac doesn’t answer with words, just nods and leans forward until he can rest his head on Jonah’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of gunpowder and aftershave.

Yeah, he knows. 


End file.
